Sam Dylan Finch

Sam Dylan Finch

Bio

  Sam Dylan Finch is a transgender writer and queer activist based in the San Francisco Bay Area. He currently works as a Feature Writer and Social Media Associate at Everyday Feminism, and manages a magical blog called Let's Queer Things Up!. He can't stop talking about queer politics, body image, mental health, and pop culture. Find him on Twitter and Facebook so you can be best friends forever.

Sam Dylan Finch Articles

Sam Dylan Finch.

Testosterone And Tea With Sam Dylan Finch: Week 1

Have you ever lived somewhere and thought to yourself, “I’m not home yet”? That’s what my body has felt like the last 24 years of my life — a mere point in time; a temporary condition. Looking in the mirror was the equivalent of sleeping in a stranger’s bed. I felt like a visitor in my own body.

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For years, I didn’t know I was hearing voices. Image: Thinkstock.

When Your Abuser Isn't Real

For years, I didn’t know I was hearing voices. When it started to happen, it felt like someone else’s thoughts were being inserted into my mind, shouting at me, undermining my reality — impossible to control.

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cello.

When Your Violin Is Supposed To Be A Cello: My Story Of Transition

A thousand Bach violin concertos swirling around my crib, imprinting those melodies on my brain, had not changed the fact that I was meant to be a cellist. And a thousand “she’s,” beginning from the moment that I was born, had not changed the fact that I had grown up to be a “he.”

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Every article I find is an opportunity to think more critically about my own craft.

10 Tips That Made Me A Better (And More Productive) Writer

It would’ve been a whole lot easier if the writing fairy had dropped out of the sky and told me what to do, instead of wasting months and months trying to figure it out. So I’m writing this with the hopes that I, your writing fairy, am saving you a hell of a lot of time by giving you this advice upfront. Here are some pretty basic tips that have helped me to improve on my craft.

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Hey, baby.

I Read Dinosaur Erotica And I Have So Many Feelings

Imagine a scenario in which these highly-evolved dinosaurs, instead of destroying an entire village and kidnapping women (SNORE), were actually gentle giants that brought sexual liberation to a village of patriarchal, shitty human beings.

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If you’re going to love me, you need to know that my struggles are not pretty.

5 Things To Know About My Mental Illness — Before You Say You Love Me

I need to know that you love me with all of my brokenness. I need to know that you can see me in my most self-destructive, fucked up place, and you won’t flinch. I need to know that you understand the darkness and that the darkness is a part of you, too.

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This is the first step toward closure.

Maybe There’s No Such Thing as Closure

I’ve heard a lot about this magical thing called “closure.” It sounds really great. My understanding of it is that, as time goes on, this person from the past becomes so distant that you no longer feel an emotional attachment. New romances fill the void left in your heart, and eventually this person who was once so significant suddenly becomes a blip on the screen.

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It’s like a care package, only you assemble it for yourself and open it up when you’re having a bad day. Image: Annie Spratt/Unsplash.

3 Mental Health Hacks Everyone Should Know About

Everyone, whether they have a mental illness or not, knows what it’s like to be in total despair and have no idea what to do about it. You’re curled up in bed, you don’t want to move, and you desperately wish you knew how to make things better.

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The reality is that no one deserves to do this alone.

Listen: I Don't Care If You're A Burden. If You Need Help, Ask For It.

I used to be the one that pushed everyone away out of fear that I was too demanding or too toxic or “too much.” But I’m finally at a place in my life where I understand just how important it is to lean on your support system — and so I’m committed to not running away anymore.

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I Didn’t Want To Be Transgender

I was so ashamed of being transgender that I held out for years, thinking if I waited long enough, this part of myself would retreat into the dark spot of my mind – the trapdoor where all the bad memories fall in and disappear.

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